


“hey, ozzie? don’t get weird, but you’re about to hit a deer.”

by chinesetakeout



Category: People of Earth (TV 2016)
Genre: Emotional Support, Everyone in This Show and the Writers Deserved Better, Gen, Group Therapy, Introspection, Light Angst, Ozzie Graham Deserved Better, Support Groups, Therapy, This Show Deserved Better
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-23
Updated: 2019-01-23
Packaged: 2019-10-15 00:25:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17518718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chinesetakeout/pseuds/chinesetakeout
Summary: It’s an awful situation, but it’s considerably less awful when there’s a circle of people all going and working through the same thing as you are.(Alternatively: It’s nice to have a sponsor.)





	“hey, ozzie? don’t get weird, but you’re about to hit a deer.”

**Author's Note:**

> so... this fic is old. i wrote it back at the end of 2017 and left it unfinished until like, ten minutes ago. i know. it’s also been a hot minute since i watched people of earth so some details of the show have escaped me and i’m not sure how out of character this is but that’s just how thisll be lol
> 
> kept this fic pretty mild because i didn’t want to write anything terribly upsetting regarding mental health, but it does talk about trauma, therapy, mentions institutionalization... very vague and generally free of anything too bad though so it should be fine if you’re sensitive to that. 
> 
> ...still, take care if you think you need to. 
> 
> i have some more notes at the end, so please read that when you’re done with this fic

Right after group, Ozzie runs right out of the church and back to the inside of his car.

His hands are clammy, his heart is beating a mile a minute, and he’s too anxious to look out of the windows in case he’ll see a deer again.

Then, for some odd reason, he hears his parents yelling at each other in his head. This doesn’t help. 

He blames this on the aliens. He thinks the term ‘intelligent lifeforms’ gives them too much credit. Who do they think they are, abducting him like that? Now he’s got trauma and complicated emotions as if he’s got the mental strength to face them on his own. 

He just wants to go back to his motel and watch Abraham swim around in his bowl for a bit. That’d be nice. Way better than being in Gerry’s old car, which absolutely _reeks_ of weed. Just being a little fish, swimming around in a little glass bowl. He’s got no worries about the world outside. He doesn’t have to smell stale smoke or sit in a sticky seat that has definitely had an entire cup of soda spilled on it before.

Abraham is just Abraham, an orange goldfish he bought from Petsmart twenty minutes before closing time during the start of mental breakdown.

...There’s no way being this connected to a goldfish is healthy, right? No. Yes. Maybe?  
  
What’s wrong with him? He never used to think this much before he remembered the alien thing. A disgraced journalist going from one of the top writers in a world-renowned newspaper company to some chump doing the occasional police report and living out of a motel by himself. And a goldfish. While being constantly haunted by the image of deer. He wants to scream a little bit.

Actually, a lot. 

A rap on the car window interrupts Ozzie’s restrained ululating, and he realizes that he’s been pressing his head up against his steering wheel with his eyes squeezed shut for the past ten minutes.  
  
“Ozzie?” It’s Kelly, looking down at him with a worried look on her face. Her mouth is moving, but he doesn’t hear her. 

He unlocks his car and leans over to push the passenger door open. A gust of wind comes in, making him shiver a little. “What?”

“I said,” Kelly starts again. “What are you still doing here? You’ve been sitting out in the parking lot for a while, just wondering if you’re gonna be alright. You just suddenly left the church.” She’s still standing outside the car, peering in at Ozzie with an expression of tired concern.  
  
“I don’t know.” He leans back in his seat and sighs. “Do you want to come in and sit? It’s kinda chilly out there.”  
  
“Sure. So,” Kelly asks as she settles herself in the passenger seat. “Wanna talk about it?”

“It’s just… All of this.” Ozzie gesticulates vaguely with his hands. “It sucks!”

“What, the group?” she asks.

“No, no,” he says quickly. “It’s more… I don’t know. The circumstances it took for me to end up here. I mean, sure, everyone’s crazy, but I like the group. It’s a decent place to be for two hours. I just hate that I had to meet you all after… Y’know…” Ozzie trails off. As silly as it is, he’s still having trouble saying ‘abducted’ out loud.

It takes Kelly a second. “Oh, I know what you’re talking about. I was like that,” she says, nodding. “I think, to some extent, everyone else felt that way at first, too.”

Ozzie gets quiet for a minute. Both of them sit there in the car in silence, watching the wind blow fallen leaves around in the parking lot. He offhandedly wishes that it was a sunny day instead of the dreary overcast skies Beacon has been having since he’s got here. 

“...Does coming to StarCrossed actually help? Like, long term?” he asks. He’s watching a bird peck at something on the ground.

“Kind of?” Kelly angles the end of her sentence up like it’s a question and shrugs. “Gina’s always saying how having a peer support group is good for dealing with this kind of thing. It’s just… good to know there’s other people out there who’ve had experiences similar to yours. Emotions. Healthy coping mechanisms. Uh, dialectical behavior therapy?” 

Ozzie raises an eyebrow at her.

“Sorry, I was just repeating all those things Gina talks about. I listen, but like… not closely enough, apparently.” She laughs a little dryly. “What I’m trying to say is this: the trauma isn’t going to magically go away.”

“Yeah.”

“But,” Kelly says. “We all have to deal with it somehow. I think it’s best if we don’t do it alone, y’know? It’s not like we all get along or that Gina is the greatest therapist in the world, but I’d rather argue with Chelsea over if we saw the same alien than to try and explain my experience to someone that thinks I need to be institutionalized.”

Ozzie nods carefully. “Y’know, I… I think you’re right. I just… I wish the process didn’t have to be, dunno, initiated by how I got fired from my job at the paper and ruined my reputation when I was trying to write a hit piece on you guys and revealed myself as the ‘renowned journalist who lost his mind.’” He sighs. “I still feel awful about that. What a dick thing to do, I’m sorry,” he apologizes.

Kelly snorts. “Ozzie, you know we’ve all long forgiven you for that, right? Like, yeah, you _were_ a dick. You’ve broken our trust in the past. But we know you’re a good guy now, and for the most part you _get_ us.”

She smiles at Ozzie warmly, and the little ball of anxiety in his stomach that’s been threatening to grow starts to dissipate.

“And hey, you don’t have to keep referring to yourself as an add-on or something to the group. It’s not _me and you guys._ It’s _us._ Whether you like coming or not, we all think it’s a little better when you’re with us. StarCrossed is a family.”

“That’s the cheesiest thing I’ve ever heard you say.” Ozzie leans back in his seat, relaxed. “I appreciate it. Thanks. Seriously. I’ll pay you back for this somehow.”

Kelly smiles more, puzzled. “What, for emotional support? I’m your sponsor, man. It’s what I’m supposed to do.” She pats his shoulder kindly. “But, uh, I’ll take a burrito from the place down the street if you _really_ want to show your gratitude.”

“Wait, now?” Ozzie asks.

“If it’s alright…?” Kelly answers sheepishly. “The meeting _was_ two hours long. It’s a late lunch.”

Ozzie rolls his eyes, but he’s grinning as he turns the keys in the ignition and starts the car. “Of course. Burritos, on me.”

**Author's Note:**

> this was mostly a vent work. i project a lot. sorry. while my trauma doesn’t involve anything extraterrestrial, it’s always been a difficult thing for me to deal with. as vaguely as i approached that in this fic, i feel a little less heavy after i wrote and finished this. so i don’t regret it. 
> 
> it’s also just been a long time since i’ve finished or posted any “fun” writing outside of school in general so this definitely was fulfilling lol 
> 
> it’s such a shame tbs cancelled people of earth... on a cliffhanger, too! outside of a personal connection with me being a person who has and is currently dealing with trauma, this show was definitely a well-written sci-fi comedy with a bit of emotions added in. the casual diversity was nice, too. all the characters had their own stories, the concept was unique, and the music. oh man, the music. i can’t find any full isolated clips or versions of any of it, but it is so good! very calming and fitting of what the show is about. i’m trying not to ramble, but i have an endless list of reasons as to why this show is and always will be a good show to me. 
> 
> just real quick, for those that might need this: i am not a mental health professional, but therapy is good. not isolating yourself from people is good. working through bad things that have happened at a comfortable pace instead of repressing them is very good. if you feel bad, maybe consider getting help in some way or talking to someone. time flies, spending it alone and in suffering sucks 
> 
> anyways, this got a little... weirdly deep. have a nice day and take care of yourselves!


End file.
